


under my breath and into your scarf

by actuallyasweetpotato, aiviloti



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week 2020, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25609195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyasweetpotato/pseuds/actuallyasweetpotato, https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiviloti/pseuds/aiviloti
Summary: “Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto says earnestly. “I like you very very much. Please stay by my side forever, yeah?”“...what?”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 25
Kudos: 212
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	under my breath and into your scarf

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bokuaka Week 2020, **confessions** | childhood friends | coffee shop au | bookstore au
> 
> [sweet] This fic was a collab, and it was super interesting to see the difference in our writing styles and try to mesh them together in a way that worked! Hope u guys enjoy reading :D

If anything, Akaashi Keiji has always figured he was good at running away.

After the last day of the nationals, when they’re back on the familiar territory of Fukurodani, Bokuto calls out to Akaashi with a voice far too loud for him to ignore. Akaashi’s eyes dart to the distance between himself and the school gates, then to Bokuto running towards him at an incredible speed, and he knows he’s cornered.

He sighs. 

He’s tired of all of this. First he's not good enough at receiving, then he's not good enough at dispelling the miserable air hanging over the team as they return to Fukurodani- even though he's the vice captain, a position to lead. Now he's simply trying to run away, something he thinks that he's pretty good at, but still not good enough.

Watching Bokuto’s feet skid to a stop before him, Akaashi braces himself.

“What do you want?” Akaashi mumbles, his eyes not meeting Bokuto's.

“I'm making sure you’re fine,” Bokuto says, and his tone is gentle.

“Of course I am,” Akaashi wipes away tears with his arm, a feeble attempt at saving face. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You don't have to feel bad, you know.”

“I'm not- I never said I was.”

“But you haven't looked me in the eye all the way from the stadium. And you weren't sleeping under the jacket on your way home, were you? You were crying,” Bokuto says, a tender edge to his voice.

Flecks of snow trickle down from the sky, dusting Fukurodani’s school grounds. They take their time, drifting slowly, fading out of existence when they land on Akaashi’s scarf. They collect on his lashes, clouding his vision. Cold moonlight floods the night, imbuing the snow and their clouds of breath with a pale glow. 

The world is quiet. It’s almost like they’re the only ones living in it.

But even so, Akaashi wants Bokuto to look away. To stop looking at him like this, for god knows how much it’s taking him to hold it together right now. It’s their last night together, the last time they’d stand together after a game, breathing in the sharpness of defeat, just them against the silent world. Akaashi doesn’t want to destroy everything that’s peaceful and tranquil in the air.

“I-” Akaashi begins, but his voice cracks, and before he knows it he's swooped into a big hug, one that he has known for less than two years, but the only place he wants to be right now.

It's enough to tear apart all the self resistance he's been building up all day since that last point.

Bokuto doesn't say anything, just keeping Akaashi wrapped firmly in his embrace and letting Akaashi cry his heart out. He clings to Bokuto like one would cling to a floating log at sea, and it's the only thing that anchors him in his ocean of despair right now.

“It's your last match here,” Akaashi chokes out. “I'll never get to play with you anymore.”

“Of course you will,” Bokuto says. “You don't really think I'll just drop my favourite setter just because I'm graduating, will you?”

“Visits are not the same. Not having anything to work on together anymore is not the same.”

“Nothing will be, but you'll always be the setter who clears a path for the ace, Akaashi to Bokuto.”

Akaashi cries harder, and he wishes the silent night would stifle this pain, all of it.

“I didn't want it to end like this, I'm so sorry Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi, we did our be-”

“It's not about that, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi inhales, stuttering breaths and hiccups. “It's the fact that I know you'll be worried about me. I thought I had been prepared for this, but one day we're going to drift apart, and you'll continue to shine like the star you are, and I'll still be here, looking at you from afar, and I thought I had been ready to accept that, I really did, but now that the fact that everything is really over and that you're leaving sinking in, I don't know how to deal with this.” The desperation rings out in the empty grounds of Fukurodani.

_ I love you, _ Akaashi thinks pleadingly.  _ I love you so much and I don't know what I'm going to do with this, to do with you, or without. _

Bokuto is quiet for a moment, taking a quizzical look at Akaashi like he's analysing him. Then, slowly. “Then let's not do that.”

Akaashi wonders if he's heard Bokuto wrong.

“Not do what?”

“That,” Bokuto says, gesturing vaguely at Akaashi. “Whatever it is that you're worried about, drifting apart, all those. Let's just never do all that and stay together, then you'll be fine and I won't have to worry about you, right?”

_ No, _ Akaashi thinks desperately.  _ No, you don't understand, how are we supposed to do that when you- _

“Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto says earnestly. “I like you very very much. Please stay by my side forever, yeah?”

“...what?”

“Be my boyfriend, Akaashi. I was going to ask when we won Nationals but we didn't, but that doesn't really change anything does it?”

Akaashi wonders if things such as misery induced hallucinations exist. He studies Bokuto through eyes blurred by tears, but nothing looks off.

“What? Why? Why me?” Akaashi looks at Bokuto, dumbfounded. “You’re so great,” he splutters, “and you’re the ace. You're the stars in the sky and I'm just ... me, I’m just here, I can’t hold you back like this.”

“But you're not really holding me back, are you? If anything it’s you who’s pushing me forward. Let me have this, Akaashi, let me go forward with you.”

“I…” Akaashi’s sore eyes swim with tears once more. He laughs, but it sounds hollow to his own ears, nervous and uncertain. He fiddles with the tips of his gloves, breathing into the folds of his scarf. Under blurry moonlight, he watches the steam curl into the air and disappear. “Bokuto, I don’t-”

“What?” Bokuto’s expression falls almost immediately, and Akaashi’s stomach sinks with it. “Sorry, Akaashi, did I come on too strong?”

The lump in his throat chokes his words, so it’s all Akaashi can do to bury his sniffling in his scarf. He wants to be scooped into another hug, a solid reassurance of Bokuto’s warmth, but at the same time, it’ll be a painful reminder of what he’ll lose, what he can’t bear to lose. So he stands there, shifting his gaze from Bokuto’s concerned expression. He shuts his eyes, uncaring of how tears overflow and run familiar paths down his cheeks.

Slowly, the touch of another hand on his. Warmth spreads through his fingers, and Akaashi suppresses a sob. How long will he miss the feeling of Bokuto’s hands on his? How long before he forgets it?

Gently, the hand squeezes. 

Akaashi doesn’t want to open his eyes. If he does, the illusion will shatter, pieces falling around him and scattering at his feet. He can avert his eyes from the debris, but he can’t close his ears to the sharp peals that will echo, then stop. Once the ringing ends, he’ll have to straighten up, take lungfuls of painfully crisp air, and leave, shards crunching under bare feet.

“Akaashi?”

Hating his trembling lips, hating his wet eyes, hating his traitorous voice that would always,  _ always _ answer Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi responds. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, was I-?”

“No,” Akaashi shakes his head, worrying at his lip. “You don’t get to say that.”

Bokuto pauses. “Say what?”

“‘Sorry.’” Akaashi’s eyes are screwed up so tightly it’s painful. “That’s my line.”

_ I like you very very much. Please stay by my side forever. That’s my line, too. _

Bokuto’s silent, waiting.

In the darkness, Akaashi takes a shuddering breath. 

Holds it. 

Lets it go.

“Bokuto-san.” He knows the suspension of disbelief won't last forever. Better to cut the thin strings himself, they won’t hold. “I stopped you from winning nationals. Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault either.”

There is a glint of protectiveness in Bokuto’s eyes that tells Akaashi he agrees with none of what he’d just said. His eyes narrow, and he gestures for Akaashi to go on. 

“It’s me who couldn’t receive the ball, who could have given everyone more chances to score. It was me who didn’t do enough of that.”

“There’s always space to improve, Akaashi, there’s never going to be a limit to how good people can be, so why beat yourself up?” 

Had it been anyone else, it would’ve sounded shallow, a ritual to go through that held no real meaning to it.  _ Oh, you’ve lost? Haha, that’s okay, just go and improve then, what else can you do? What are you feeling bad about? _ But this is not anyone else, this is Bokuto who only says things he means. This is Bokuto with the kind of ferocious intensity that makes Akaashi want to believe, pushing him up, only to make fall more unbearable. He’s tired of this. He’s so tired of this.

“Because it wasn’t enough. Because I still wasn’t as good as I need to be, alright?” he snaps, and oh, here they are again, the tears that he thought he’d swallowed down. He doesn’t mean to, doesn’t  _ want _ to lash out at Bokuto of all people, but so little things are under his control right now. Not the results of that one last match, not his skill, and now not even his temper. “Because we still lost in the end, even though we didn’t have to. That makes all the difference.”

Akaashi hates all of this, how futile and meaningless everything he’s doing now.

“That's okay though,” Bokuto says, and Akaashi searches Bokuto’s voice for any hints of a lie. It’s sincere- so much so that Akaashi almost believes him. “There’s gonna be bigger stages- college, leagues, olympics-” 

“But-” Akaashi stops himself.  _ But what?  _ He wonders.  _ But it won’t be me by your side? How selfish can I be, to want to stay by his side when all I’ll do is bring him down? _

“But…?” Bokuto prompts.

Akaashi whispers it, a confession. “By your side… it wouldn’t be me, would it?”

“Do you…” Bokuto’s voice almost sounds hurt. The hands clasped onto his shift, almost uncomfortably. “Do you not want to…?” 

“No!” Akaashi’s eyes fly open, and he clings to Bokuto’s hands insistently. “I want to!”  _ More than anything in the world. _ His voice quiets. “If you’ll let me. Even though I’d just slow you down.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows are raised, mouth open in a small ‘o’, as if surprised by Akaashi’s sudden outburst. Soft moonlight dances across the bridge of his nose. Then, his expression melts, eyes crinkling at the corners and beaming. “Akaashiii,” he grins, “Don’t overthink it!” 

Akaashi frowns. He was just running through the worst case scenario, what about that was overth- okay, maybe it was. With every huff of laughter from Bokuto, he feels the uneasiness ebb away.

Smoothing over the back of Akaashi’s hands, Bokuto went on. “Yes, we lost nationals. Yes, I’m sad we did. But this is one game out of many others I’m going to play, Akaashi.” Bokuto beams at him like it’s the easiest thing to do, and Akaashi can only find it in him to stare. “I refuse to be stuck here, when I can be moving forward! And you,” He fixes Akaashi with a determined look, “I want you to come along with me!”

Bokuto raises his hand, clasped tightly with Akaashi’s, into the sky. It feels wrong to be doing this, a triumphant pose attributed to the sweetness of victory. But Akaashi lets it hang midair, exposing the entirety of his arm to the snow that’s falling.

“But I’m not going to keep on playing volleyball after I graduate, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto releases Akaashi’s hands from his grasp, and it is only then does Akaashi mourn how much he misses the warmth already. Bokuto asks, “Does that make a difference?”

“Huh?” Akaashi’s mind goes blank.  _ Of course it does, _ he wants to say.  _ I want to be worthy of being by your side, wherever it is you are- if you belong on the court then I don’t how am supposed to- _

“It doesn’t make a difference. That was-” Akaashi watches Bokuto scrunch his brows, searching for the right word, “-rhetoric!” His eyes brighten upon finding the word as Akaashi watches, mesmerised. Bokuto fixes him with a fierce look, tightly gripping Akaashi’s shoulders and startling him. “Rhetorical questions mean I don’t really need an answer from you, because I already have one. So no matter where you are going, no matter what you’re going to do, I promise to be by your side too.”

Akaashi’s head drops into his hands. “Bokuto-san, we’re just going around in circles now. This is not about me. This is about you, who has so much further to go. What kind of person would I be if I chained you to the ground when you should be soaring through the skies?”

“We keep going around in circles because you’re not listening to what I’m saying, Akaashi. Look at me,” he says, but his tone is neither impatient nor authoritative.  _ Look at me _ , he says. That is all to it. “There is always,  _ always _ , going to be further heights to climb. I’m always going to be scared of what is to come, because this is a thing that’s always going to be in me, this fear. And then, there is you, who is able to shred these fears just by being there.” 

Bokuto bends down, scraping together a handful of snow from the ground and holding it out for Akaashi to see. 

He continues, “You are this warmth, that melts even the coldest of winters. So when I say ‘Stay by my side’, Akaashi, I mean let me stay by yours, let me melt these fears of yours, the same way you have melted mine.”

Tokyo is a place that typically does not snow. Tokyo doesn’t usually warrant a mention when it comes to the topic of harsh winters, but yet, that does not mean the cold is any bit easier to bear. No matter how sparse days like these are, Akaashi is always grateful when spring comes waltzing in, returning life to the starkness of winter.

Bokuto’s arms are outstretched, but he does not step any closer to Akaashi than he is. This time, it is not a source of comfort, he knows. It’s an invitation, but only if he’s willing to cross that gap.

Akaashi is tired of running away. He’s been running away for as long as he can remember, so convinced that whatever unlikely happy ending sitting beyond the horizon isn’t worth the pitfalls and traps scattered along the way. He stops running because of volleyball, because of Bokuto Koutarou, and with every match they win, he’s so close to believing there are things that are worth the fight. But here comes the last match, ending in crushing, devastating failure. 

He used to be someone who backed down at the first sight of failure.  _ Run, run away from everything that can hurt you, if you’re not in immediate vicinity of the damage, you don’t have to be hurt _ , he used to think. Yet here he is now, in front of another failure. It hurts, of course it does, but surprisingly, Akaashi knows he wouldn’t have had it any other way. And maybe, this is okay.

Before him is Bokuto, who asks that he stop running from things he loves just because the stakes of failure may be hard to bear. Here is Bokuto, who asks that Akaashi stop running for him.

There is a tilt of the head from him, who looks at Akaashi with those eyes that reminds him of ichor, in all of it’s godly and untouchable glory. His eyes ask Akaashi to take that step forward, to fight these fears head on.

So, Akaashi stops running. It’s euphoric to remember what it feels like to breathe easy when you’re not running away and away, and closes the distance between the two, letting Bokuto’s warmth spread through him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [sweet] weee hope yall enjoyed! giant thank u to liv's braincells cuz i wrote some bits and then brain go krrrr so she had to step in LMAO its 5:30 am
> 
> [liv] there is this twt post about how writer friends are just on a mission to sell each other their ideas and what you are seeing is a successful attempt at going "idk what to do w this pls do it for me" but liKE SWEET THANK YOU FOR TAKING MY BRAINROT AND HELPING ME CRAFT THIS FHDSFJKHSFGJ ;;;;A;;;; 
> 
> you can find sweet here [ [twt](https://twitter.com/shesusismygod) | [tumblr](https://actuallyasweetpotato.tumblr.com) ]  
> you can find liv here [ [twt](https://twitter.com/aiviloti) | [tumblr](https://aiviloti.tumblr.com) ]
> 
> also pspsps if you really Really enjoyed it, consider heading over to twt to show some support for the [promo tweet!](https://twitter.com/shesusismygod/status/1288818600728387584) thank you guys so much for reading <333


End file.
